


partners in crime

by unus_annus_eilish



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, I added a bunch of tags and it deleted them all, Idk what's happening, M/M, So I give up, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unus_annus_eilish/pseuds/unus_annus_eilish
Summary: After months of radio silence from Ethan, Mark gets a call.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 73





	partners in crime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cowboy_casey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboy_casey/gifts).



> Hi! This is a very last minute (sorry) but also long time coming fic. I've been working on it since July but needed to post for the secret santa exchange this year. Here's a little more of a description because I'm on mobile and tagging sucks:
> 
> Ethan gets very drunk, although it's not described
> 
> Ethan throws up, but it's also not very detailed
> 
> It is based on the song 'Partners In Crime' by FINNEAS
> 
> It is also based off of Ethan's "partner in crime, accomplice in idiocy" quote
> 
> There's a brief suicide/major character death reference, but it's not detailed and nothing actually happens
> 
> The ending sucks and I'm sorry

"You look pretty," Ethan slurred at Mark, unable to stand and hanging off of his friend for support.

Mark just laughed. "That's not funny,"

Ethan frowned, "I'm not joking."

Mark smiled but didn't respond.

"Why won't you-" Ethan was cut off by the contents of his stomach being emptied onto the floor.

And his shirt.

And Mark's shoes.

Mark sighed loudly but dragged Ethan to the bathroom.

He took Ethan's shirt off, followed by his pants, his own shirt, and both of their shoes.

Mark grabbed all of the items and put them on the bathroom counter.

He turned back around and told Ethan to sit in the shower and wait.

He listened.

Mark turned on the sink and washed the puke off of the clothes. He muttered incoherently under his breath while scrubbing his shoes.

Nobody was left at Ethan's house, unsurprisingly.

It was nearly 4 a.m. and the party Ethan had thrown ended hours before.

The cops had been called right after Mark had been called.

Mark, who hadn't heard from Ethan in months received a call from a very concerned Kathryn around 2 a.m.

Ethan had gotten out of control. He hadn't uploaded to his channel in months, went silent on Twitter, and never posted on Instagram. He was making next to no money and could barely afford to pay his rent.

Nobody knew what had happened to him. Everything was going fine until the end of Unus Annus. Within the last month of the channel, Ethan stopped showing up to recording sessions.

Videos were made into two parts series, even if that meant that each video was only 6 minutes long.

Content suffered, bloopers from old videos were uploaded weekly, and Mark issued an apology, but Ethan stayed silent.

Mark called constantly, trying to get an explanation out of him, but to no avail.

He never answered the door when Mark knocked, never had the decency to call or text back.

Mark felt like he was in the dark. He had absolutely no idea what was going on with Ethan.

Someone who had once been his best friend, was now a stranger.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Getting the call from Kathryn was the most worrying thing. Mark had been (much less than) fully prepared to hear that Ethan was dead.

But instead, Kat was calling to tell him that Ethan was having a huge party, completely out of it, and in danger of potentially deadly alcohol poisoning.

Mark was so frustrated with the entire situation that he was almost expecting something like that.

He had pulled on his shirt, pants, and shoes, he ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed his round glasses, not bothering with contacts.

He had rushed to Ethan's house and was the most stressed he had felt in months. Sure, trying to milk a month of Unus Annus content without his Unus was difficult, but he had managed a similar stunt before.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," Ethan stuttered while starting to cry, "I'm a mess"

"That you are," Mark sighed, "but that's what friends are for I suppose." Mark set his shoes on the ground, clean, albeit wet.

Ethan pouted from the floor of the shower. "I wish we weren't friends," he slurred.

Mark's head whipped around. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Ethan stood up without saying a word. He stepped, nearly naked, towards Mark and rested his head on his shoulder.

"You smell nice," Ethan observed.

"What the fuck, man?"

Ethan ignored the outburst, changing from sniffing Mark's neck to kissing it softly.

"No, no, no, nope, not happening," Mark breathed, stepping to the side so he could get out of Ethan's reach.

Ethan sunk to the floor and started to cry. Tears, though slow at first, started to roll down his cheeks.

Mark, who had given up scrubbing their clothes and left them in the sink, slumped down the cabinets. He sat across the small bathroom from Ethan, bare feet nearly touching.

"Partner in crime, accomplice in idiocy," Mark whispered, shaking his head.

There was quiet for a moment, and then Mark started to whisper again.

"Memento Mori," a single tear dropped from Mark's eye, opening the floodgates.

"You promised me," he whispered angrily.

"You said one year," Mark aggressed, "you were happy when it started. Where did that go? Where did we go?"

Ethan stayed silent.

Mark put his hands up to his head, throwing his skull against the cabinets.

"Was it something that I did? Did you just burn out? When did it go wrong?"

More silence. Mark groaned. Ethan flinched.

"I was so fucking worried, dude."

"Don't 'dude' me," Ethan whispered, "you know I don't like that."

"Do I know that? Doesn't seem like I know you at all, does it?"

Ethan whimpered.

"You ditch me in the last month of our channel, you don't answer the door, you don't answer calls or texts, then out of nowhere, I get a call from Kathryn that you're having a fucking party, passed out drunk, and that the cops got called. What the fuck where you thinking?"

Ethan didn't move. He didn't react at all. Mark stood up and faced the mirror.

"You know what I thought Kathryn was calling to tell me?" Mark slammed his fist on the counter, "that you were dead," he answered for himself, "I thought I was going to answer the phone and be told that you had fucking killed yourself."

Mark turned around, "and you know what? I wouldn't have been surprised."

He was crying harder now, so frustrated with the lack of back and forth. "We haven't talked in  _ months!" _

Ethan looked up at Mark for a second and shrugged, giving no other response

"Give me  _ something,  _ Ethan," Mark pleaded.

"I'm sorry," Ethan choked out.

Mark put his head against the bathroom door, feeling slightly relaxed by the cool wood.

"How could," Mark coughed, trying to talk through his tears, "how could you leave me?"

Ethan let out a sob, his shaky breath echoing in the small bathroom.

"I tried for days," Mark continued, "I called you endlessly,"

Sobs from both boys echoed through the room, "I was so fucking worried about you!" Mark cried, "how could you leave me like that?"

"I'm sorry," Ethan stuttered again.

" _ Sorry _ isn't enough," Mark spat, "do you know what kind of pressure you put me through? I had to come up with a month's worth of scrap videos for our channel!"

Ethan looked down at his fingers, "who the fuck do you think has been paying your rent?" Mark asked, "because it certainly isn't you!"

Ethan's face went blank, void of all emotion. Mark, still uncontrollably upset, continued to spit fire.

"Do you know the last time you uploaded?" Mark glared, "because I do, I checked everyday to see if you were okay."

Ethan stayed motionless.

"You haven't uploaded in 4 months and 2 weeks! You haven't streamed in over 5! Your most recent tweet was last year! You're a fucking mess, Ethan!"

Nodding, Ethan picked at his fingers. He didn't say anything, knowing, even in his intoxicated state, that he was in the wrong. Nothing he could say would help.

Mark shook his head and reached to turn the tap on. He turned the cold water up to full blast and splashed his face. He turned to the crying boy on the floor, chuckling ironically.

"I brought you out here for a reason Ethan. You know how fucking lucky you were to get that opportunity? And this is what you did with it? What the fuck where you thinking?"

Mark turned around again, feeling unbelievably trapped in the closet-sized room, and kicked the cabinet.

Ethan, startled by the loud noise, stood up. He cowered in the corner between the wall and the shower, afraid he would be the next target.

Mark ran his hands through his long hair and prepared to punch the mirror. He pulled his right hand back and started to push forward until he was interrupted.

Ethan had lunged forward and grabbed Mark's arm, stopping him from shattering the glass. 

Mark's eyes, for the first time since they had gone into the bathroom, locked with Ethan's. He pulled his arm back down to his side and sat back down on the floor. 

This time, Ethan sat next to him.

They sat there, unmoving and silent. There was an unspoken gratitude from both of them, but they were both too stubborn to admit it.

After a few minutes of quiet, Ethan's hand started to slide towards Mark's.

Just an inch apart on the floor, the motion took much longer than it should have.

'Baby steps,' Ethan thought, slipping ever closer.

Their fingers finally touching, Ethan smiled slightly. Mark noticed, but decided to say nothing.

Ethan overlapped their hands entirely and scooted closer to Mark.

Their bodies now less than an inch apart, Ethan started to rub his thumb over the top of Mark's overturned palm.

After a few moments, Ethan scooted even closer and rested his head against Mark's shoulder.

They sat there for a while, still quiet. Ethan was smiling, but still crying. Mark didn't move except for the steady rise and fall of his large chest.

Ethan's hand, resting on top of Mark's, stilled. Mark looked down at their fingers and reached up, intertwining them.

When Ethan noticed he smiled. Still avoiding eye contact, Ethan wiped his eyes, clearing his face of the cold tears.

Mark sniffled and Ethan looked up at him. From the angle of his head on Mark's shoulder, Ethan's view was skewed, but he knew Mark looked just as good as always.

Mark leaned his head back into the wall, chuckling at the irony of the situation.

He had come over, expecting to see Ethan dying, yet they sat together, holding hands, in various states of undress, and he had never felt more alive.

He thought back to when they first met, how stupid it seemed back then. Who knew that one day Mark would fall in love with the boy who paid to meet him.

Mark knew he had never been perfect in any sense. He had failed so many people, but most importantly, he had failed Ethan.

In his big empty house, sitting alone for months, Mark came to the realization that Ethan was, almost certainly, the most important person in his life.

When Ethan came into his life, Mark could have never guessed the impact he'd have. And now, not seeing him for a few months meant Mark lost a part of himself.

He'd never admit how much Ethan meant to him, but maybe he should. There was so much of Mark's life, both in his career and his personal life, that was better because of his friendship with Ethan.

Closing his eyes, Mark let the moment sink in. Sitting there, feeling Ethan's soft breathing on his shoulder and their palms pressed together, was the most grounded he had felt in months.

Ethan was equally relaxed.

Despite his drunken shock, Ethan knew he fucked up. Granted, he had known since the beginning, but seeing Mark so visibly upset with him was something Ethan struggled to handle.

All their years together, Ethan had always tried his hardest to impress Mark, opting to work instead of sleeping or eating.

Yet it had never occurred to him just how much of an impact Ethan actually had on the people around him, both positively and negatively.

Mark had often complimented Ethan's work ethic, which only fueled him to work harder and care less about himself.

Over the years, the burnout hit harder and harder, but Ethan kept working. Recording enough videos to post at least everyday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

In a perfect world, Ethan would have told Mark that he was stressed, they would have eased up on the content, and changes would have been made.

Logically, Ethan knew that Mark would do that for him, but logic wasn't often included in his thought process.

So he just left. For the first week, Ethan had to physically restrain himself from texting Mark, but once he missed the first recording session, and all the calls that came with it, it became much easier.

He didn't open the door, he didn't answer calls or texts, his hygiene went down the drain.

Basic everyday tasks became his worst nightmare. The idea of brushing his teeth or combing his hair exhausted him. He had been depressed before, but never to this extent.

Kathryn tried to talk to him, but all she could get out of him was "don't tell Mark". Not wanting to overstep, she didn't.

Ethan squeezed Mark's hand gently, glad he had been so forgiving.

Deciding to host that party was an impulsive decision that Ethan hadn’t thought out at all.

Despite the quiet, Mark's mind was racing at a million miles an hour. Thoughts ranged everywhere from 'is this my fault?' to 'is he going to die?'. Pretending to be okay was something he knew they both excelled at, but how well could Ethan hide the pain he must be in?

It had been so long since Mark got drunk, and never to the extent of the boy beside him, but he knew it couldn't be pleasant.

"Do you need some water?" Mark asked, breaking the silence though he knew the answer.

Ethan nodded and Mark started to stand. Grabbing his hand and gently pulling him up, the boys stood awkwardly for a second.

"You want a snack too? It's probably a good idea," Mark asked quietly, "unless you just want to go to bed and deal with this in the morning, which is always an option."

Ethan shrugged, still clearly out of it.

"When was the last time you ate, Ethan?" Mark prodded, concern only growing as his parental instincts kicked in.

"Had breakfast," Ethan whined.

"Breakfast?" Mark repeated, "no wonder you're drunk."

Ethan giggled and stumbled forward, his arm over Mark's shoulders. 

"If I bring you some food in bed will you eat it?"

Ethan nodded again as they began their journey up the stairs. Dodging empty bottles of various hard liquor, paper plates, and cups, was not the easiest thing to do, and after a few feet, Mark gave up.

"Is it okay for me to carry you?" Mark gently asked, not wanting to overstep. Ethan had no objection.

Picking the (much too light) 24 year old up was the east part, but when Mark set him in the bed and tucked him in, he knew it was worth it.

Mark left him to go downstairs. He picked up some of the bottles lining the stairs and threw chicken nuggets in the microwave. After a quick sweep of the living room, Mark sat down on the couch.

He pondered the way the night had gone. They had fought, cried, and laughed, and after Mark brought the food upstairs, they'd probably be sleeping in the same bed.

It felt refreshing to be back in his presence, safe and at home. He never felt in danger even when things got tense.

His thoughts were interrupted by the microwave, and Mark rushed to get back to his boy.

When he opened the door, Ethan was passed out. Not much of a surprise.

Mark climbed under the covers next to him and snuggled in tight. Wrapping his arms around his back, Mark felt peace for the first time in months, sighing out a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Mark inhaled the scent of Ethan's hair and whispered into it quietly. They would work it out in the morning, he supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> That's that. Comments and Kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: @elle_says_words  
> Instagram: @unus.annus.eilish  
> Tumblr: @the-inevitability-of-death
> 
> For @minkco on Tumblr (go follow them! <3)


End file.
